Hunting Ghosts
by SilverWidow007
Summary: After encountering a mysterious assassin in France, Natasha finds herself chasing a ghost, while trying to uncover the mystery of her mother, and soon finds it may all tie into a dark secret within SHIELD itself.


**Authors Note: The Bond in this fic was created by fellow fanfiction writer, Megacoldfusion. I have no doubt you have come across a few of his James Bond fics in the past, because if not, you should.**

 **This fic combines the worlds of James Bond, and Marvels the Avengers.**

 **For any questions on this Bonds continuity, please read Megacoldfusions story 'The Secret Origin of James Bond'.**

 **Timeline wise, this takes place about two weeks after the first Avengers film.**

 **And finally, the outfit Natasha wears at the beginning here, is the same outfit she wore when she first met Steve and Banner on the Hellicarrier.**

 **Disclaimer: I own neither James Bond or the Avengers.**

 **Hunting Ghosts.**

 **Chapter 1.**

She stood on the deck, staring out through the glass, and down upon the recovering devastation below, with her arms crossed, and a Glock 26 strapped to her left thigh.

Staring down at the Big Apple below, she thought back on the battle that had united a new team of soldiers, her and Barton included, and how it had ripped the city apart.

The battle had ended with a good chunk of the city in ashes, bodies strewn across the cement, both human and alien alike, but the cleanup had been going surprisingly well, despite a small incident about a week and a half ago.

Apparently, one of Stark's employees in the D.O.D.C had provoked the head of a damage cleanup crew named Adrian Toomes.

Beyond that, however, the cleanup was running smoothly, and the Avengers had been regarded as the saviours of the world, heroes to all.

But Natasha wasn't that much of a fan of the fame.

The more the fame, the less the anonymity, which meant undercover missions were going to be an absolute bitch in the future.

Not that any mission wouldn't be, considering that massive pain in the side of her neck

It had happened last week during a training session with Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America.

She'd been trying to show him a new manoeuvre on how to dislocate an enemies shoulder while breaking his neck at the same time, when that idiot Stark had decided to play a prank.

She had only just grabbed Steve's wrist, and launched herself into the air when that billionaire moron had decided to throw in one of his new energy pulse grenades. They had the same physical effects as the pulse blasters on the palms of his armour, so, obviously, she and Steve had been sent flying back against the wall.

While Steve had been lucky enough to be slammed against the ceiling to floor mirrors, creating a unique, spider web like crack on the reflective surface, Natasha herself had been unlucky enough to bounce off the corner pillar that lead back into the changing rooms, hitting the back of her neck just narrowly against the blunt corner of the pillar.

She'd been lucky not to break her neck.

Steve had gotten up with just a few cuts and bruises, before chasing after Stark.

She'd found Pepper later on who was looking for Stark, saying she hadn't seen him in hours. They'd found him eventually, down in his armoury, gagged and stuffed into one of his prototype suits, and stapled to the wall.

Needless to say, it wasn't long before a full blown prank war broke out between Captain America and Iron Man.

A voice called out a few feet to her left.

"Hey Natasha! Fury wants to see you in his office. Says it's urgent."

Natasha turned her head to the left, shoulder length red curls bouncing lightly, flinching at the painful twinge in her neck, and looked to see the owner of the voice.

Maria Hill, fellow SHIELD agent, and close friend, stood in the doorway not far off from Natasha's left, decked out in her usual SHIELD agent outfit. A navy blue jacket, matching pants, combat boots, and a pistol attached to her hip, with her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail.

It was much different to the outfit Natasha usually wore on missions, and far from the outfit Natasha wore at that very moment.

A red top that hugged her chest, beneath a black leather jacket, navy jeans that hugged her firm, well toned legs and thighs, and a pair of black boots, with her signature Glock 26 strapped to her left thigh.

She walked forward, and began to follow Hill who had turned and began to make her way back down the hallway towards the elevators.

"So, what does Fury want now?" she asked as soon as she met Maria's stride.

"I don't know, but whatever it is, he sure as hell ain't happy," Maria sighed.

Natasha frowned.

Colonel Nick Fury was the head of SHIELD, and though he was rarely in a good mood, not that it had improved much with Stark at his side, pestering him nonstop, none would ever actually be worried unless he was particularly fowl, and so seeing the worry on Agent Hill's face, Natasha came to three conclusions.

The first, Stark had pissed Fury off. It wouldn't honestly be that much of a surprise considering their conflicting personalities, and the ways they went about their objectives.

That and Stark's attitude made anyone he knew, close or otherwise, want to punch him in the face.

The second, someone had gone against hid orders, caused an incident, and Fury was getting the blame.

But she doubted that one.

As close to Fury as she was, Hill was on the opposing side of the Avengers, agreeing with many Political figures that the Avengers were an unstable, and unnecessary asset.

And so, judging by the look on Hill's face, she was instead worried for the Colonel.

Which left Natasha with conclusion number three.

Something bad had happened.

Not like conclusion number two where someone went against orders causing an incident.

No.

This meant that something else had happened.

Something they hadn't accounted for.

And an agent, or agents, had been killed.

The elevator doors slid shut, and Hill hit one of the buttons for the upper floors.

Natasha craned her head to the side, wincing at the sound of her cracking neck, then brought her left hand up, palming the flesh for some temporary relief.

Hill cocked her brow on Natasha's right.

"You still haven't gotten that fixed?" she asked, pointing to Natasha's neck. "It's been, what? Two weeks? If you don't get it fixed soon, it's gonna cause some serious problems for you in the field."

"I know, I know, Clint said the same thing," Natasha sighed, dropping her hand back down in front to clasp with the other.

"Maybe you should go get a massage. And who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky and your masseur will be some hot Latin guy with big hands."

Natasha glared at her, and Maria snorted.

"What? It's obvious you haven't had sex in a while. How longs it been? A few weeks? A month?"

Natasha looked away with a clenched jaw, and Maria frowned.

"Two months?"

Natasha shut her eyes tight, while Maria's widened.

"A _year_?" Maria shouted in a whisper.

" _Two,_ " Natasha whispered back.

Maria almost flat lined out of shock right then and there.

" _Two Years_?" she shouted in another whisper. "How the hell could you go _two whole years_ without sex!?"

Natasha's eyes shot open, and she looked around the elevator frantically hoping beyond hope that the audio sensors in the security systems had at the very least malfunctioned so no one else would hear Agent Hill shouting out such an embarrassing secret.

She didn't need her fellow agents to hear, and she sure as _hell_ didn't need _Stark_ of all people getting his hands on this little titbit of information.

She turned to Maria, and whisper shouted for her to keep it down.

"But how? I mean really, _how_ could you go _two whole YEARS_ without sex? I couldn't even survive a _month_ let alone _two whole years_!"

"Will you _please_ shut up?"

The elevator dinged to a stop, and as soon as the doors slid open, Natasha was out and power walking her way to Fury's office, away from embarrassment.

"TWO YEARS!?"

Natasha bristled, her face as red as her hair, and turned back sharply, whipping out her Glock 26, aiming it in Maria's direction.

Thankfully, Agent Hill had quickly gotten the message, and shut her mouth tightly, quickly hitting a random button on the elevator directory, forcing the doors to slide shut once again, allowing Natasha to breathe a sigh of relief, and slide her gun back into its holster.

It wasn't her fault though. The past two years had been the busiest of Natasha's career so far, from spying on Stark, to recruiting the Avengers, and then that battle with the Chitauri down in the city.

Not to mention all the various missions in between.

Besides, Natasha had mostly seen herself as an 'all work no play' kind of girl.

Though that didn't mean she hadn't been propositioned by a few along the way.

Whenever she was undercover there were always a few guys, and a few girls who came her way, hell, even Stark had made a few passes, but she blew them off. She had learned a long time ago that pleasure and business don't mix.

It wasn't long before she stood outside the office of one Col. Nicholas J. Fury.

 _"What the fuck do you mean it's gone!?"_

Natasha closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

He was definitely pissed.

 _'Conclusion number three then'_ she thought with a sigh, and pushed the door open.

Fury was pacing back and forth in front of his large office window, the fore finger of his right hand pressed against the device in his right ear.

Fury looked over as Natasha entered the room, and motioned for her to make herself comfortable, so she placed herself in the seat before Fury's desk.

"Are you sure you looked everywhere?" Fury sighed, running his other hand down his face.

Natasha watched as his brow un furrowed, and his shoulders slumped.

"Alright. Just get 'em outta there and get back."

Fury tapped the piece in his ear, and slumped down into his chair, placing his elbows on the desk, and his face in his hands.

Natasha took a moment to assess the room, something she knew she should've done the moment she entered.

Fury's signature black leather duster hung on a hook in the corner, several cabinets lined the wall, and Fury's mahogany desk stood smack bang in the middle of his office, between the large window, and the door behind Natasha.

Fury himself was wearing a black, turtle neck sweater, with a brown leather gun holster strapped around his torso, and his black M&P strapped in on his left.

He sighed, and moved his hands away from his face. His eye, Natasha noted, was a little bloodshot.

"A week ago, we received Intel that an unknown terrorist group had somehow gotten their hands on Chitari weaponry, and were planning on using it to assassinate a German Nationalist at a conference in Paris."

Natasha sat stock still, eyes hard and focused as she took in every word with rapt attention.

"So what happened?"

"I sent seven of my best agents out to eliminate the threat. They arrived in Paris, entered the Marriott Opera hotel, and set up shop in their S.O.'s hotel room."

"For the next two days, they surveyed the city. Every outpost, every safe house, every drug den, everywhere. They even contacted every contact we got over there, and came up with nothing. No whispers, not even a shred of evidence that there was going to be an attempted assassination. Nothing."

Natasha felt an uneasy twist in her stomach. Whatever had happened was bad, and she knew she'd know why soon.

Fury stood up from his desk, and turned towards the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

"It was a set up."

Natasha closed her eyes tight as the twist tightened.

"When they told me there was nothing, I gave them the order to return home, but to do so with complete radio silence. They were supposed to return yesterday afternoon, but they didn't. So I sent a few agents over to their hotel room last night to see if they were still there."

"They were dead."

Natasha let out a long, deep breath she didn't even realise she was holding.

"Who were the agents?"

Natasha knew she had to ask.

As much as Fury cared about his agents, he was never all that emotionally invested in their existence. At least not enough to react like this. But that usually depended on their clearance level at SHIELD.

So she guessed it more of a loss of power that disturbed him than the loss of a life.

He had lost agents to both Loki, and the Chitauri, and he'd mourned them all pretty quickly.

Then there was Coulson. That was a heavy hit for many of them, but his reaction there hadn't been quite that deep. Though she later learned that was because of the TAHITI protocol.

She knew she should've hated him for using Coulson's death as motivation for the Avengers, despite it actually working, but she really hated him for not revealing the truth to the rest of the Avengers once the battle was over, because not only was it disrespectful to the rest of the Avengers, but it had Natasha as a hypocrite. She'd known about the TAHITI protocol for at least a week and a half now, and she hadn't revealed it to the rest of the Avengers.

 _'Oh well,'_ she thought. If the truth about Coulson ever did come out, she'd just play it cool, and pretend she didn't know.

Back on the matter at hand, however, Fury remained mute.

Natasha repeated her question.

"Who were the agents?"

Fury sighed, his shoulders slumping, but he didn't turn to look at her.

"You're not gonna like the answer," he warned, his voice softened to an almost comforting tone.

 _'Shit,'_ Natasha thought. How bad could it be that Fury would feel the need to comfort her?

Finally, he turned back to her, but his eye looked away.

"The agents were Adrian Bastion, Connie Thornville, Samira Dayton, Liana Vargus, Jordan Matthews, Nolan Roberts, and Finnegan Swan."

An icy cold chill ran down Natasha's back as her eyes blew wide open, and her lips parted, but she couldn't breathe.

Those agents weren't just some of the best, their clearance levels were the same as hers, Bartons, and Coulsons.

She'd seen them in action too. Bastion was a hell of a combatant. He was suave, and smart, to the point where his arrogance wasn't just for show.

Thornville was a master hacker, tech savvy, and fluent in over 72 languages, both dead and new.

Dayton was a master at gathering Intel on the streets, Vargus was a poet with a pistol, there wasn't a poison or crime ring alive that Matthews didn't know by heart, Roberts was a heavy weight combat expert, and Swan was a master at stealth.

"There was only one attacker."

Fury's statement had caused Natasha's emerald green eyes to rival the size of dinner plates.

One attacker?

One attacker took all of them out?

She swallowed hard and loud.

"How did they die?" she asked, her voice just a little lighter than usual.

 _'Damn it!'_ she thought. As much as she hated to admit it, she was afraid. She'd worked with every last one of them over the years, had seen every last one of them in action, and to say she was impressed would be an understatement.

But, the fact that they had all been eliminated by one person, in one hotel room, and that it hadn't been in the news or noticed by anyone outside of SHIELD, was truly frightening.

SHIELD itself had been in the news quite a few times over the years. More than most people actually realised. Be it stealth missions, or any other field missions that had gone wrong, it was in the news, albeit under another designation, like how a bomb attack on an oil rig would be disguised as a gas explosion.

But this? This was something else.

Natasha watched as Fury took a deep breath, and let it out with a sigh, before closing his eye, and bringing his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Matthews was the first to go," Fury started, removing his hand and looking at her straight on. "There was a knock at the door, and he went to answer it. As soon as he opened the door he was dead. I think he thought it was house keepin', or room service or some other shit. But I think it might've actually been someone posin' as a contact. He was shot in the head."

Fury tapped the space between his eyebrows, right at the top of his nose.

"Right between the eyes."

Fury walked forward, and pulled a manila file out of the top right drawer of his desk, then plopped it down right in front of Natasha.

Natasha, with great effort, reached up, and opened the file, inwardly cussing herself as her hands shook.

She swallowed hard at the sight before her.

A man in his mid to late thirties, bald, and African American stared out at Natasha.

A bullet lodged right between his eyes, exactly where Fury had pointed a moment before.

But it was the look on his face that spooked Natasha the most.

Even with dead eyes, he looked up at her with a look of surprise on his face, a look that would never be washed away.

"Vargus was next," Fury continued on."Apparently she knew who the attacker was, which pretty much confirms my hunch that the attacker was posing as a contact. She went for her gun, but whoever the attacker was, they took her out before she could even unclip her gun outta the holster. All it took was two shots."

For emphasis, he raised two fingers. Natasha didn't know if he was trying to be funny or not.

"One to the heart," he poked his left peck with his right index finger, "and one to the head."

He moved the same finger just an inch above where he'd indicated Matthews had been shot.

Once again he reached into the drawer, and pulled out a manila file, plopping it down in front of Natasha.

She opened the file with a steadier hand, but her reaction was none the same.

Staring up at her was a beautiful Latin woman from the chest up. Long, wavy brown hair splayed around her head like a halo, full lips parted, her brown eyes glazed and half lidded.

There were two bullet wounds, just as Fury had said. One on her left breast, indicating a shot to the heart, and another to the head, an exact inch above where Matthews had been shot.

"After that there was a bit of a struggle. I'd go into details, but I think it's better to hear it for yourself."

"What do you mean?" Natasha asked as she closed Vargus's file, and slid it back across the table.

Fury reached down to the middle drawer on his left, and pulled out his Stark Industries issued tablet, a requirement for all agents.

"As you no doubt know," Fury groaned slightly as he settled himself into his chair, "Agent Thornville was the group's resident tech genius. Correct?"

Natasha nodded.

"Now, as up to date as Thornville was with everything she had, and the team used, she was also known to be a little old school."

"Up until about ten years ago, the CIA had a certain requirement for all field agents, wherein they were all required to carry what was known as a black box. A small gadget that could be fitted into any piece of jewellery worn by an agent, be it a watch, a bracelet, a necklace, a belt buckle, anything. It records all audio captured in the field, and stores it for later use."

"It's lack of visuals made it obsolete, especially once miniaturised cameras were issued out, but, Thornville saw the Black Box as being less conspicuous, so she's been using it since she left the Academy."

Natasha knew exactly where this was going.

"Her Black Box recorded the Assassin, didn't it?" she asked. "That's how you know who died first, am I right?"

Fury tapped the side of his nose three times, then reached back into the drawer, and pulled out five more manila folders, each labelled with the names of the other five agents, besides Matthews and Vargus, and placed each one in front of Natasha, side by side.

"I was only able to discern the first two. After that it gets a little confusing. Try and see if you can guess which one."

Natasha wondered if this was Fury's idea of a game show, as he leaned back in his chair, and tapped the screen of his Tablet. The audio started.

Laughter met Natasha's ears as it began, and she felt a twist of anticipation and suspense begin to build in her lower abdomen.

 _"So, what happened next?"_

Vargus. Natasha recognised the voice with ease.

 _"What do you think I did? I threw him out the window!"_

Another round of laughter followed.

That was Bastion, it was unmistakeable. If he was talking about throwing someone out a window, then she had no doubt he was talking about that incident in Cairo two years ago.

The laughter died down into comfortable silence that lasted for the next three minutes.

She could hear Thornville tapping away at the keys to her computer, Vargus was cleaning her gun, Dayton was reading a book, and by the sounds of deep throated grunts, Roberts was doing push ups somewhere close to Thornville.

A deep voice with a Brooklyn accent broke the silence.

 _"How long 'til she gets here?"_

It was Matthews, no doubt, and Natasha guessed the 'she' in question was their contact.

Bastion was the one to answer.

 _"About five more minutes. Now just relax, okay? I ordered some room service. Should be along any minute now, so Vargus? Put away your gun."_

 _"Fine,"_ Vargus sighed. Natasha could hear the soft clicks of metal against metal, that indicated Vargus putting away her disassembled firearm.

 _'Guess she had her holster lying beside her then,'_ Natasha thought. She hadn't seen it attached to Vargus when she opened the file.

Bastion started up again.

 _"So, what do you guy's make of that shit that went down in New York?"_

 _"The aliens?"_ The voice was heavily accented. African no doubt. It was Roberts.

 _"Yeah. What do you make of that?"_

 _"Doesn't make much of a difference I guess."_

That was Dayton no doubt.

 _"And the Avengers?"_

 _"Those idiots? Who gives a shit?"_

 _'Swan,'_ Natasha growled in her thoughts.

 _"Right?"_

 _"Hey! Romanoff and Barton are on that team!"_

Natasha smiled.

 _'Thank you Connie.'_

 _"To quote Finnegan, who gives a shit?"_

Natasha glowered at the small screen on the desk, as she heard Bastion and Finnegan high five and laugh their asses off.

The bubbling anticipation returned as she heard a knock at their hotel room door.

 _"Must be room service. I'll get it."_

That was Matthews.

She heard him get up, and begin to shuffle across the room.

 _"Hey! Be careful, alright?"_ warned Bastion. _"That could be our contact."_

 _"Got it."_

She heard Matthews open the door, and not a split second later the sound of a silencer pierced the air, followed by the shuffled thump as Matthews hit the floor.

Natasha almost jumped at the sound of the gun going off.

 _"You!"_ Vargus cried out. But it wasn't a cry of rage, more a loud gasp of shock.

Fury was right. Whoever the assassin was Vargus had encountered them while the team was in Paris.

The door clicked shut, and Natasha heard the sound of the silencer piercing the air twice more, a second between shots, and then the muffled thump of Vargus hitting the floor.

Natasha looked at the two open files of Matthews and Vargus on the table beside the Tablet.

 _'At least they went quickly,'_ she thought.

 _"Fucker!"_

That was Finnegan again, followed by the heavy sounds of four pairs of feet rushing forward.

The silencer went off again, and Natasha heard a gargled ' _Ugh_ ' as another body hit the ground.

Natasha leaned forward, and tapped the screen, pausing the audio.

"You know who got shot?" Fury asked.

Natasha nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure.

The gasp had a bit of a feminine pitch, and the sound of the body hitting the floor was quite light.

It couldn't have been Thornville. Fury said the Black Box was usually fitted into jewellery, and, from what she remembered of Connie Thornville, was that she always wore a silver and gold bracelet on her left wrist.

Judging by the distance of the sound, seeing as Thornville was most likely still wearing her bracelet, and Vargus was dead, that left...

Natasha pulled the file labelled _Samira Dayton_ from the line, and opened it.

She frowned down at the sight of the beautiful Indian woman who looked up at her with glassy eyes from the photo.

There was a bullet wound to the head, that _would_ be the kill shot, but there was also a bullet wound to the throat.

The gargled _'Ugh'_ must've been Dayton getting shot in the throat.

Natasha's eyes widened, and she felt her breath quicken.

This meant that Dayton had been alive for most of the fight, choking on her own blood, _before_ being eliminated.

She didn't die quickly.

Looking up, Fury gave her a single nod, confirming her choice, and her unspoken theory.

Swallowing hard, and she tapped the screen again.

A struggle met her ears this time. But something was off.

She could hear the sounds of fists against flesh, and the sharp sounds of a knife slicing through skin, but it was the cries that made her tense.

She could only hear three voices crying out. Roberts, Swan, and Bastion.

But not the assassin.

On impulse, she reached forward, opened the three files, and gasped at the sight.

Unlike the photos of Vargus, Matthews, and Dayton, each of whom had been taken from just below the chest and up, Roberts, Swan, and Bastion were given the full body treatment, and it was far from a pleasant sight.

As she listened to the audio, and looked at the three pictures before her, she could easily imagine it playing out before her.

Roberts and Bastion were the more advanced combatants of the three, but they weren't unbeatable, and Swan was far from even being considered well trained in combat.

The sudden sound of a knife slicing the air followed by Bastion and Roberts crying out in pain confirmed the long, deep wounds on their abdomens.

A sudden thump and a choking cry from Swan made Natasha look to his throat in the picture.

Just as she'd predicted, he had a large bruise on his neck, right dead in the centre.

The assassin had punched him in the throat, but that wasn't what killed him.

Bastion and Roberts must've been in too much pain to assist at the time, because not a second passed after Swan had been punched in the throat, that Natasha cringed at the sickening sound of his neck being snapped.

And it was true, if his picture was any indication.

His head was twisted at an odd angle.

As she followed the audio, it was clear that Bastion and Roberts weren't alive for much longer.

She heard Bastion cry out in what she could only guess to be a war cry, but he was quickly silenced by a wet gargling sound.

She noticed a large wound on his neck.

He'd been stabbed in the throat.

Natasha almost winced as she swallowed again.

She could hear the wet, metal sound of the knife being removed from his throat, followed by a swift, heavy _'thunk'_.

If his picture was any indication, with the large, dark puddle of blood around his head, it was all too obvious where the knife had entered next.

 _"...no..."_

That was Roberts. Looking to his picture, despite the long gashes on his body, the heavy bruises, and the swollen black eye, it was clear his death was blunt force trauma.

Especially by the sight of the left side of his skull completely caved in.

 _"...no...no...no please...don't-"_

Natasha didn't have the words to describe the sounds that followed, only knowing that Roberts had crumbled to the ground before they'd stopped.

She heard panting.

Quick, feminine pants close to the Black Box's receiver.

 _'Connie,'_ Natasha thought, and she looked to Thornville's file on reflex. _'She was the last one left alive.'_

Thornville gave a sudden cry of effort, most likely to grab Vargus's second pistol, the one she hadn't been able to pull out of the holster.

Then, there was a sound.

A heavy, whooshing sound followed by the sounds of a knife hitting flesh, and Connie crying out in pain as she crumbled to the floor.

Natasha guessed he'd thrown his knife to immobilize her, and it worked.

She could hear Connie whimpering, and the assassin walk closer, but, whoever the assassin was, they stopped a few feet away.

The assassin's silencer pierced the air again, but Connie was still whimpering.

Natasha's eyes widened, and she looked back to Dayton's file.

 _'That must've been the killshot.'_

She winced, realizing Dayton really had been alive the whole time, choking on her own blood.

But it wasn't over yet.

Fury had said that Connie was dead, confirmed by the file that lay before Natasha.

Thornville gave a sudden cry of pain, and Natasha's throat tightened at the wet, squelching sound of the knife being pulled from Thornville's wound.

Then, the assassin spoke.

 _"Now, tell me where it is."_

The voice was soft, low, and had an accent, British, beyond doubt.

But the voice.

It was unmistakably male.

She could've sworn they had said their contact was female, yet the assassin was male.

She came to the easy conclusion that the assassin and the contact were two completely different people, but that didn't explain how Vargus knew the assassin.

 _"I- I don't know what you mean..."_

Fear and pain laced Thornville's voice well and clear, but the stutter had always been her tell.

Natasha knew that was why Connie never went into the field, or undercover.

This meant she knew what the assassin was after.

The assassin gave a low chuckle, and Natasha blushed as she felt warmth spread between her legs. Something she hadn't felt in over two years.

She closed her eyes tight.

 _'God Damn it!'_ she thought. _'Get a hold of yourself!'_

 _"If you don't tell me where it is, I'll do worse to you than I did to your friends."_

Connie gasped.

 _"I shan't ask again."_

The voice was low, and smooth, almost comforting in its tone, and, knowing the assassin's intentions, it sent an embarrassing wave of heat through Natasha's body.

She had to sweep her tongue across her parched lips at the accent alone.

 _"It's... it's the secondary drive on my back up... I hid it in Bastion's suitcase..."_

He chuckled again, as low and rumbling as before.

 _"Good girl. You've been a great help."_

 _"Of course. And you won't-... wait...no! No, no, no, please! Please don't, pleas-!"_

There was a short scuffle, and Connie's whimpers and pleas were drowned out by the familiar sound of a knife, piercing through flesh, the wet, gargling sounds of Connie drowning in her own blood, and the unnamed assassin gently hushing her, into eternal oblivion.

It was one of the darkest, and most chilling things Natasha had ever heard in her entire life, that assassin hushing Connie like that, and it pained Natasha at how hot it made her feel.

She just hoped Fury hadn't noticed, and if he had, she hoped he mistook it for fright.

Connie gave one, last, gargled plea, and the assassin hushed her one last time, before the silencer pierced the air for what Natasha knew to be the final shot.

But it wasn't over.

Swallowing hard once again, Natasha made to open Connie's file, only for Fury to gently push the cover back down, shaking his head at Natasha.

She frowned.

Connie had just _clearly_ received the kill shot. There's no way she could have survived.

Then again, she knew it happened from time to time, but the people who survived never lived all that well after.

She listened as the assassin walked across the room, and unzipped what she could only guess was Bastion's suitcase.

A few plastic clicks meant he must've removed the hard drive on Connie's second laptop.

And then, she heard something truly frightening.

Soft, wet gurgles.

It was Connie, and she was alive.

She heard the assassin sigh.

 _"Well, that's a little disappointing."_

The assassin walked back across the room, and Natasha shook for a moment at the sound of Connie's neck being snapped.

The audio stopped there.

Natasha sat stock still, hands folded in her lap as she stared down at the open file of one 'Connie Thornville' on the table before her, while Fury slid his Tablet back into his desk drawer.

The picture was the most gruesome of the lot.

Like the first three, Matthews, Vargus, and Dayton, Connie's picture was taken from the chest up.

Unlike the other three however, Swan, Bastion, and Roberts, Connie's picture was far bloodier.

Her throat, though expertly sliced, looked as though it had been all but torn open, leaving her chest and curly blonde hair soaked in blood.

A single bullet was lodged right in the middle of her forehead, just like Vargus and Dayton, with a small trickle of blood leaking from the wound.

Glassy eyes looked up at her from bellow, with her head jotted out at an odd angle, just as it had been for Swan.

It was a bloody, and gruesome death for one of the most gentle people Natasha had ever met.

"Why did the audio stop?"

Her throat was hoarse, and she mentally cussed herself for how weak it made her sound.

"What do you mean?" Fury asked as he pulled Connie's file from the table, and placed it back in the drawer with the others.

She cleared her throat, and spoke again, her voice much clearer than before.

"I mean, the audio stopped as soon as she died. Right after he... right after he broke her neck."

She tried her best to ignore Fury's sympathetic stare.

"We didn't hear anything beyond that. So, unless he doctored the recording after finding the Black Box-"

"Yeah, I probably should've mentioned earlier," Fury interrupted, settling himself back into his chair.

Natasha threw him a quizzical look.

"You see, the Black Box also works a little like a heart monitor. When whoever uses it is killed while wearing it, the audio cuts out immediately. That's one of the reasons it's considered so obsolete."

Natasha nodded, and crossed her left leg over her right as she leaned back in her seat.

"So?" Fury asked. "What'd you take from all that?"

She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Their contact, whoever it was, may have been captured, or eliminated, or both. I'd guess both, because the assassin showed up when the contact was supposed to."

"How do you know he wasn't the contact?"

"Agent Bastion said the contact was a she."

Fury hummed lightly, nodding for her to continue.

"The assassin was, or is, British. Possible British intelligence, MI5, MI6, or MI7 if I were to guess. And well trained in hand to hand combat if he was able to take out both Agent Bastion, and Agent Roberts without being hit."

"How do you know he wasn't hit?" Fury asked.

"The audio," she clarified. "When Agents Bastion, Roberts and Swan engage him in combat, you only hear those three cry out in pain, but never him. It's possible he could've been hit and didn't feel any pain, but I honestly doubt that."

Fury hummed again.

Natasha continued on.

"He's also a well trained marksman. Expert sharp shooter by how he took out Matthews with quick, point blank accuracy, and the similar head shots for Agents Vargus, Dayton, and Thornville."

Fury hummed again.

"Mhm, and what else?"

Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat.

"He's cold. Towards death, and his victims. He may even find..."

She trailed off for a moment, choosing her next word carefully.

"...pleasure," she shuddered as a wave of heat ran through her, "in his kills."

"And how do you know that?" Fury asked curiously with a cocked brow.

"You can hear it," she started, slow, and careful with the words she chose, hoping the heat didn't overcome her, and hoping once again that Fury mistook it for fear, instead of what it really was.

"You can hear it when he kills Thornville. The way he hushes her."

She felt a dangerous twist in her stomach, and adjusted her position in the chair.

"He's smiling."

Fury stared at her, and she _prayed_ his mistook her arousal for fear.

"So," she began, hoping to change the subject before she'd faint, "what have you been able to gather from everything so far?"

He remained still in his chair for a few moments, eye closed, before giving a short nod.

"You're right about the Assassin. He's definitely British Intelligence, but I'm not sure on which organization myself. I've sent a shout out to a few of my contacts overseas to see if they know anything, but it might be a while before I get any back. "

Fury stood from his chair, and moved to stand before his window, and looked down upon the city below.

"The bullets he used to kill our agents were shot from a Walther PPK/S 9mm. Snubbed tip. But that won't get us anywhere."

Natasha stood from her chair, flinching at the ever present creak in her neck, and walked around the desk to stand beside Fury.

"What about security footage?" she asked.

"The assassin got to it before we could. That's what I was yellin' about when you came in," he replied.

Natasha hummed softly, and sighed as she felt the arousing heat begin to disappear.

"I thought you would've been more pissed about Agent Thornville's backup drive being stolen."

"I am," Fury grunted, "that's _why_ I'm so pissed he stole the footage."

Her curiosity piqued, Natasha turned towards Fury.

"What was on that drive exactly? What's so important about it?" she asked.

Fury closed his eye, and sighed. Bracing himself for Natasha's oncoming outburst.

"On that file, was a list of the identities of every single SHIELD agent on the planet."

Natasha froze at Fury's words, her breath hitching.

" _What?_ " she asked, her voice low, just barely above a whisper.

"Not just their real names either, but also their undercover aliases, field history, training, everything."

After a moment of silence, he looked to his left, finding Natasha glaring at him, with her pale skin reddened, and her green eyes a blaze.

When she spoke, she kept her voice low, but hard.

"Why in the _hell_ did Agent Thornville have a copy of those files Fury?"

Fury pulled his lips into a thin line, held his breath, and took a quick look around the room, looking for anything amiss, before turning back to Natasha, and a lump formed in her throat at the look in his eye.

A look that brought an unknown weight to the room.

"Two days after the Chitauri invasion, the IT department went on red alert. Someone was hacking our systems. At first I thought it was Stark, but I later realized he hacked our systems when he arrived on the Hellicarrier during the invasion."

 _'Classic Tony,'_ Natasha thought with a roll of her eyes.

"We brought in one of our best computer specialist, a young recruit named Leopold Fitz."

Natasha had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from mentioning him as one of Coulsons new team.

"Now, while he wasn't able to trace the hacker, he did find out what they were after."

A moment of clarity washed over Natasha.

"The SHIELD Personal files."

Fury tapped the side of his nose once again.

Natasha frowned.

"That still doesn't explain why Agent Thornville had a copy of the files."

Fury nodded, and turned back to the window, letting a deep breath out through his nose.

"Well, we kept trying to find the source of hack. And then when we received the Intel about the supposed terrorist attack, I decided to make a call to one of SHIELDS higher superiors. At the time I wanted to send a whole other team to check it out. It would've consisted of Agent May,"

Natasha scoffed inwardly. She'd known Melinda for years, and after that incident overseas involving an enhanced, the woman had become a recluse, instead opting for a quiet desk job. There was no way she'd put herself back in the field, no matter what the mission.

", Agent Grant Ward, Agent Leo Fitz, as I mentioned before, and a friend of his. Another recruit by the name of Gemma Simmons, just as smart and tech savvy as Agents Fitz and Thornville."

"So why didn't you just send them?" Natasha asked.

As much as she didn't believe the idea of Melinda getting back in the field, she'd seen Agent Ward in action. On security feeds of course. And she'd read his file. He was a pretty gifted agent, well trained in combat, surveillance, stealth, undercover work, and a pretty damn good marksman.

But he was also mid level agent access wise. It made him, in a way, expendable.

And while she didn't know much about Agents Fitz and Simmons, she'd heard the rumours from the Academy, and Agent Thornville herself. They truly were intellectually gifted.

Fury gave a soft snort.

"Like I said, I was goin' to, but the Superior thought it'd be better to send in Agent Bastion and his team. Said she thought there was something off about the Intel, and requested I send over our best just in case. Guess she was right about the Intel being off."

Her brow crinkled in another bout of curiosity.

"Who was the Superior, sir?" she asked.

Fury turned away, his voice firm but low.

"That's classified."

Natasha eyes narrowed slightly, and she pursed her lips in a small, thin line.

She didn't like that he didn't trust her with that one little piece of information, considering how loyal she's been to him over the years, but, for the sake of whatever loyalty she had for him, and whatever mission he was about to give her, she'd let it go.

For now.

"She explained that the best way to handle the situation was to give Agent Thornville the files, and take it with her so that if the hacker tried again, they wouldn't be able to find anything, we might be able to stall 'em long enough to track 'em down. And since Agent Bastion and his team was one of our best, we thought it'd be safe with them."

 _'Well that backfired,'_ Natasha thought derisively.

"So, what's all of this got to do with me?" she asked, getting straight to business.

Fury turned to her, a smirk on his lips.

"I'm glad you asked."

Turning away from the window, he motioned for her to take a seat once again, before he situated himself back into his leather chair.

Once Natasha was back in her seat, Fury reached down, and pulled another manila file out from one of the drawers, and slid it across the desk to Natasha.

Opening the file, she found a plane ticket to Paris France, first class, three credit cards, and a passport.

"While we don't know who the assassin is, we know he's most likely still in Paris, probably still at the same hotel too."

"He's still at the Marriott?" she asked.

"Mhm."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Let's call it a hunch."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Fury.

 _'There's something he's not telling me,'_ she thought.

"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Tomorrow morning, you're gonna take a plane to Paris under the identity 'Yelena Belova'."

Natasha's eyes widened at the name, and she quickly opened the passport, and felt her throat tighten at the sight of her own picture smiling up at her, with her dark red locks replaced with blonde curls.

Yelena Belova was another Black Widow from back when Natasha was in the Red Room.

They'd been pretty good friends, up until someone eliminated her while she was on a mission Germany.

"Once you arrive, you'll be escorted to the Marriott Hotel by Agent Bardot. He'll give you the tools you'll need for the mission. Once you arrive at the hotel, you'll be brought to you suite, room 209, three floors below room 507, that's the suite being used by the assassin."

Again Natasha wondered how Fury knew how the assassin was still in Paris, let alone which hotel room he was staying in.

"Now, I've already had a team check out, and clean up room 417, where Agent Bastion and his team were eliminated, so there's no need to go there."

 _'If there's no need to go there then why'd you mention it,'_ she thought.

Fury never kept her in the dark all that often, and she didn't even have a plan on going near that room.

So what the hell was he hiding?

"Once the assassin leaves the room, I want you to infiltrate his suite, and find that drive. Once you've got it, you get the hell outta there. Bardot will be waiting two miles North West of the Hotel. Get the drive, get to him, then get home. Understood?"

Natasha nodded, though she didn't quite trust Fury at the moment. There were things he wasn't telling her, and she didn't like that.

"Well then Natasha, good luck."

Natasha picked up the folder, stood from the chair, and walked out of the room.

 **To be continued...**

 **Review Please.**

 **A.N: Next chapter might not be up for some time, but here's a basic run down of what'll happen.**

 **Natasha enters the Marriott, and later encounters the Assassin.**


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